


00Q/Hartwin Tumblr Collection P.2

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, I GOT SO MANY PROMPTS AND THEY WERE ALL SO GREAT, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, fluff fluff fluff, so much god damn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 10,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Part two of my 00Q/Hartwin tumblr prompts, because I got over 25 in 12 hours and I was so excited I wrote all of them!(I will be adding to these one at a time so look out for that!)





	1. Hartwin: Dick Pics

Prompt: "I've seen this prompt making the rounds: accidentally (REALLY!) sending a dick pic! Can you do this with Hartwin?"

* * *

_(in an AU where Kingsman really is just a tailor shop and Eggsy works there and really fancies his boss, Harry, who sort of likes him back)_

“Oh no,” Eggsy whispered.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Jamal asked.

“Um–I–I think–I accidentally–um–n-nevermind.”

Jamal and Ryan exchanged a confused look, but said nothing. Eggsy was acting very strange lately. Something to do with his new boss. They didn’t like to ask.

Eggsy fired off a text, then hid his phone in his pocket again and sat there, staring at his beer, looking for all the world like his world was ending.

~

Harry blinked as his phone buzzed. He was going through the accounts, and had left it on vibrate. Picking it up, he frowned at the number that showed. Did he know anyone with that number? Oh, yes, young Gary. Why would he be texting Harry, and at this time of night?

He opened his messages. There were actually two messages; one was multimedia, one was text. He opened the text first.

_pls disregard that last msg, sir._

He frowned harder. Curiosity was always his greatest weakness, however; and so he opened the other message.

~

“HE’S GONNA FIRE ME I KNOW HE IS OH CHRIST WHAT DO I DO MUM WHAT DO I DO I’M FUCKED I’M SO FUCKED–”

“Wee! Wee! Calm down!” Mum ordered, shocked by the tears on Eggsy’s face. “What happened? Why would you be fired?”

“I accidentally sent my boss a dick pic!” he wailed. “I wanted to send him a picture of JB but I accidentally sent him a dick pic! He’s gonna have me murdered or somethin’, I know it!”

Mum stared at him. Then she snorted.

“It’s not funny!”

“Of course not, love,” she soothed. Then she burst into laughter, and hugged her growling son. “I’m sure you can explain to him next you see him. He sounds like a decent bloke.”

Eggsy grumbled, still upset, but not shouting or crying anymore. He hugged his mother and sniffled a little.

“I hope he doesn’t hate me now,” he mumbled miserably.

“He won’t, love. You made a mistake. That’s all. Now go get ready for dinner.”

~

Harry stared at the photo for far too long. Then he deleted it, like a gentleman.

He felt decidedly less than gentlemanly when he saw Gary the next day and immediately thought of the photo. Gary saw him, turned beet-red, and scurried to the back, studiously avoiding eye-contact. Harry pretended not to see him. It would be best for all involved if the incident was forgotten.

_[update as of 3/8/2017]_

Unfortunately, he could not forget it, because Gary came up to his office at lunch and tentatively knocked on the door. Harry looked up and could not find it in himself to greet Gary with a smile. "Yes?" he asked instead, setting down his sandwich.

"Um... I'm sorry about last night," Gary mumbled, staring at his toes. He always looked uncomfortable around Harry, but today was especially nervous. "I meant ta send you a picture of my dog, but I musta swiped the wrong way. I'm sorry."

Harry fiddled with his pen as he thought through his various answers. "I believe you," he said finally, and was almost amused when the tension went out of Gary's shoulders. "But why would you want to send me a picture of your dog?"

Gary actually blushed and tensed again. "Because you said you'd never seen a cute pug," he replied, almost defensively.

Harry's mouth twitched. "Because pugs are not cute."

"JB is."

"James Bond?"

"Jack Bauer." 

"Ah."

A tense pause. Then, because he had always been an argumentative prick, Harry commented, "You know, pugs were bred primarily for their short muzzles, which gives them breathing difficulties."

"I know," Gary answered gloomily, "But JB has never had difficulties. He doesn't even snore."

"One dog out of how many? Several thousand? Pugs are a horrible breed. They shouldn't be allowed to be purebred anymore."

"Well, I agree that pure-breeding is dangerous for the animals, but you can't actually stop people from breeding their dogs," Gary pointed out. "Even if it's made illegal, there will still be bad breeders."

"True, but--"

"Harry," a voice from behind Gary interrupted, making the boy jump and whirl, "May I have a word?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, of course, Merlin. Fine. Send me a photo of your dog," Harry ordered Gary, "And I'll give you my verdict."

Gary positively beamed at him. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir!" the boy chirruped, and scampered away. Merlin raised an eyebrow as he entered the office, clutching his eternal clipboard.

"Do I want to know?" he asked dryly.

"We were discussing pug dogs," Harry replied shortly. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"

Merlin handed Harry his clipboard. On its tablet surface was an electronic form. Harry stifled a groan. More paperwork. Oh joy.

~

Eggsy was sure to get an excellent picture of a smiling JB and was very careful attaching it to a message. Then he remembered that, while Mr. Hart had said he believed Eggsy, he had not said the he'd _forgiven_ him. Although, would he have demanded a picture of Eggsy's dog if he hadn't? Would he have even talked to him, much less chatted? No, he must had forgiven Eggsy. And that made him relax, and smile.

"So he forgave you?" mum asked.

"Yes," he replied, beaming.

She smiled back. "That's good. Help me with dinner."

Daisy stood in her cot, cooing and babbling cheerfully, as her brother and mother made dinner. She'd been a much happier baby ever since her father had been jailed. Eggsy wondered at that, but didn't like to mention it. JB sat at the edge of the lino, sighing mournfully. Eggsy almost slipped him some ground beef, but mum's head whipped around and her eyes narrowed and he decided not to.

They were settling on the couch when Eggsy's phone buzzed. He frowned, then remembered, and scrambled to get it out.

_I still say pugs are ugly. HH_

Eggsy was... disappointed. Then he was angry at himself. Why should he be disappointed that all Mr. Hart sent him was one short sentence? They were employer and employee, not friends or anything. So he typed back quickly, _just cuz u say it doesn't mean it's true._

_Touche._

Now Eggsy smiled a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you want even more. As always, comments = life, love, and happiness.


	2. 00Q: Ducks

Prompt: "00q - feeding ducks"

* * *

 

“Remember when we first met?”

James snorts. “I’m not likely to forget.”

~

“Don’t feed them bread!”

James looked up from tearing his sandwich to pieces and stared blankly at the young man scowling at him. “What?”

“Don’t feed the ducks bread!” the young man repeated. “It’s very bad for them.”

“Well, what _should_ I feed them?” James growled, “Salami? Lettuce?”

“Lettuce, yes,” the young man sniffed, hands on his hips. “They can eat greens if they’re torn up properly. Rice. Seeds, obviously. Corn, peas. _Not_ bread.”

James glared at him, yanked the lettuce off his sandwich, tore it up, and flung the soggy bits to the birds gathered before him. They gobbled it up and honked for more. The young man graciously offered a bag of corn. James took it and scattered some for the ducks, then handed the bag back, turned, and walked away.

~

The next time he went to eat his lunch by the pond, the young man was there too. James ate his sandwich, and, when the young man wasn’t looking, dropped some peas for the birds.

~

Now James and the young man, nicknamed Q, sit on their bench and feed the ducks. They sit close together. Sometimes people ask if they’re together; they both laugh it off. Lately, though, it makes James sad. He… well, he wouldn’t _mind_ being with Q. But would Q mind being with him?’

He doesn’t have the courage to ask.


	3. Hartwin: Little Spoon

Prompt: "Hartwin - the first time Harry gets to be the little spoon when they cuddle"

* * *

Harry hasn’t cried since he was ten. But the first time Eggsy comes back from the dead, grinning wearily, scuffed and injured but _alive_ , Harry feels a few tears slip out.

“You–” Harry can’t think of the words. He wants to scold Eggsy. He wants to kiss him. He wants to slap him. He wants to murmur promises of undying love in his ear. So instead of any of these things, Harry simply pulls him inside and set about cooking dinner for him.

Eggsy stops him when he puts the kettle on to boil and hugs him. “I missed you too, love,” he whispers.

And Harry just breaks down and sobs into Eggsy’s shoulder.

After dinner they go upstairs, where Harry changes Eggsy’s bandages and kisses him. Then they lie down, just… holding each other. Just holding on tight. Maybe Harry falls asleep, he isn’t sure. He just knows that, at some point, Eggsy makes him roll over, and holds him from behind, kissing the back of Harry’s neck gently, lips lingering on Harry’s skin. Harry bites his lip and does not cry. He feels… anchored. He hadn’t realized how lost and listless he’d been until now. But now, cuddled up with his lover, he is safe, and anchored, and he will always be ready to protect and anchor Eggsy when he needs it.


	4. 00Q: Run

Prompt: "00q - James has a busted leg or something that prevent him to go in the field so he's got to be Q's handler for a meet no one else can go on"

 

* * *

 

“Relax,” James drawled, “You’re doing fine.”

“Says you,” Q muttered back.

James smirked and leaned back in his chair, fingering the sling keeping his arm still. He’d been run over by a Land Rover, so now he was in Q-Branch, delivering advice to his superior.

While James relaxed in Q-Branch, Q himself was at a party much like one James would usually be casing. But Q’s mission objective was much different. Instead of mingling and planting bugs, he was there to meet a prospective buyer for MI6 secrets. No one outside of MI6 knew what Q looked, sounded, or acted like; no one would know who they were talking to.

Or not talking. Q’s inability to make small talk had alienated him from the rest of the gathering, with the exception of one woman.

She sashayed over to Q–he’d implanted cameras in his glasses, so they had a landscape view of the party back in his Branch–and smiled charmingly. James frowned. His gut instinct was to tell Q to walk away, but then again, they still didn’t know who was the buyer. It could be her, for all they knew.

“Why so glum?” she asked kindly. “Do you need a proper introduction?”

“Ah–no, thank you,” Q answered politely. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Her smile turned predatory. “Ah. I see. Would this someone happen to go by the name of Q?” she asked in a low voice.

“Say no,” James hissed immediately.

“No,” Q repeated obediently, infusing the word with admirably faked surprise. “I–to be honest, I don’t know what their name is.”

James slapped his palm over his face.

“Hm.” The woman eyed Q, then smiled again. “I–”

A gunshot rang out, people screamed, and the woman in front of Q dropped like a stone. Q gasped and stumbled back, dropping his untouched drink; James sat bolt upright, scanning the screens–”Your ten o’clock!”

Q swung around, spotted the man with the gun, and bolted for the door.

But there was another man already there, and James stood before he remembered he could do nothing, and growled angrily as Q skidded to a halt, head whipping back and forth. The man with the gun was advancing on Q, and the man in the doorway had pulled out a knife easily six inches long. James could hear Q start to hyperventilate.

“Q–Q, listen to me! Head for the balcony!”

Like a fish through seaweed, Q darted through the shrieking crowd to the balcony. He fetched up against it hard, and gasped as he looked down. Belatedly, James remembered his fear of heights, and curse his own thoughtlessness.

“James, I can’t jump that,” Q gasped, breathing harder and faster than he should’ve been, “I just can’t, I’m not like you, I’m not indestructible–”

“Do it anyway!” James barked. “Roll when you hit the ground!”

Three more ragged gasps, and Q leapt over the balcony railing.

~

(added as of 3/28/2017)  
  
"I was stupid."

"No, you just weren't ready."

Q scowled to himself as he trudged down the path along the water's edge, hands deep in his pockets to hide his scraped-up palms. Alright for James to say jump and roll, but Q didn't know how to do that, so he'd ended up rolling twice and then sprawling on gravel. His ankle hurt. He didn't dare say anything, though; not when James had a busted arm, broken in six places.

"Q..." James cleared his throat self-consciously. Then, "I think I'm alone in Q-branch."

Q frowned. "There should be at least seven minions with you," he objected. "We were specifically told not to leave you alone, or you'd start a fire."

"Oh come on, I'm not Alec."

"You're right. You'd start an explosion."

James chuckled. Q didn't. He was tired and hurt and he'd failed. "They didn't want to buy from me," he murmured. "They just wanted me dead."

James was silent on the other end for a moment. Then he began slowly, "You're on to something. I think--hello, what's this?"

"What's what?" Q's head snapped up, and he carefully scanned the park he was walking through, turning in a circle. He saw nothing.

"Your tracker is blipping. I suggest you run."

Q groaned, but picked up pace, slowly at first, until he was flat-out sprinting along the river, breath gasping as raggedly as when he'd been panicking on the balcony. He was fastest in Q-branch, sure, and he could run for long distances if he was careful, but that didn't mean he _liked_ it. 

He reached well-lit streets. There was no one around in this part of town, but he slowed enough to catch his breath. "Am I still blipping?" he asked wearily.

"No. It's safe to go back to your hotel room, I've been watching and no one's come in. I'll be coming to meet you when you arrive tomorrow."

"You mean I have to take a night-train immediately after almost being killed?!"

"'Fraid so. It'll be alright, Q." How did James always manage to soothe him? "You'll be fine."


	5. Hartwin: Sub

Prompt: "Harry realizing he has a submissive side, and Eggsy embracing it."

* * *

 

The discovery began when Eggsy first bit Harry’s lip during a kiss.

Before then, it had always been Harry who did the nipping, plumping those lips under they were plush and red and parted hungrily. But then, one day, Eggsy got frustrated with Harry’s languid teasing, and nipped back.

At first, Harry was too startled to react. Then a breathless moan escaped him, and he didn’t mind at all when Eggsy took over the kiss, shoving Harry back into the cushions, climbing into his lap, and grabbing his face to kiss him deep, deep, deeply.

Later, when Eggsy’s need to kiss was satisfied, Harry wondered at his own reactions.

He had never been submissive. He had never bared his throat and did what he was told. But something about Eggsy’s urgent, careful kisses…

He went a step further, and tested himself by letting Eggsy crowd him up against the wall in the shower in the same manner that Harry had often down to him. It was… interesting. Especially when Eggsy began biting and sucking on his neck and all rational thought went out the window.

So, one night in bed, after more of these small tests, Harry took a breath and whispered, “I… would like to try something different.”

Eggsy perked up immediately. “What? What d’you wanna try?” he asked eagerly. Harry felt suddenly horrible; was Eggsy bored? Did he find sleeping with Harry monotonous? Well, this should shake things up a little. Harry wrapped his arms around Eggsy and rolled over on his back, pulling Eggsy on top of him and letting the younger man settle between his legs. Eggsy stared down at him in confusion; then his eyes widened, and he let out a long breath.

“Oh,” he whispered.

Then he attacked Harry’s mouth, and Harry let him gladly.

~

After that night, Harry discovered other little things.

He liked lying beneath Eggsy. Not in a sex-way (although that was glorious too at times), just in a cuddling-way. He liked being the little spoon. He liked letting Eggsy order him about.

But he also like being on top, and being big spoon, and refusing Eggsy’s orders. And he never knew how he was going to feel from one day to the next.

He tried to apologize, but Eggsy just laughed.

“No, I love that about you,” the younger man chuckled. “You’re a mystery that’s always changing. Just when I’ve got you figured out, you change again.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, but Eggsy laughed again and kissed him gently.

“Don’t apologize. It makes you wonderful.”


	6. Hartwin: Chocolate Liqueur

Prompt: "I kind of really liked the Hartwin ficlet where Harry realises he likes being submissive sometime... If you have more for that, that would be my prompt :) If not well Hartwin and chocolate."

* * *

 

It’s getting harder to breathe.

Harry has never done body shots, but he thinks he likes them. He likes watching Eggsy take shots off him, at least.

The chocolate liqueur tickles as it trickles down his stomach, following the channel of his abdomen. Whoever is pouring the liqueur–probably Bors–laughs. Everyone around them is hooting and laughing too, and someone’s shouting something about bets. Eggsy, meanwhile, has one hand on Harry’s thigh as he drinks, and keeps casting sly, heat-filled looks up at Harry. He probably knows that Harry has a semi.

They’re celebrating Harry’s fifty-fifth birthday at Kingsman, and are culminating the evening (night? early morning?) with drunk truth-or-dare. Someone had dared Eggsy to do body-shots off someone, probably hoping he’d choose Roxanne, but no one had been surprised when he’d looked immediately to Harry.

The bottle runs out, and Eggsy licks a big stripe up right where the liqueur had been poured, then straightens with a content sigh. “That was nice,” he says. “Got any more?”

“No, now it’s your turn to pick truth-or-dare,” one of the knights insists, as Bors hands Harry a flannel to wipe down with. Harry wipes down and sits up fully, dropping the flannel in his lap to hide his erection. His belly still tingles from where Eggsy’s tongue had been.

The night continues. When the clock strikes four in the morning, _then_ they all get ready to head home to bed. Harry and Eggsy lean against each other in the taxi, and almost fall asleep; but then they are home, and stumbling to the door, hand in hand.

Somehow they manage a shower together, with lots of snogging. Then they went to bed. Eggsy sat up against the headboard, gazing at the ceiling; Harry laid his head in Eggsy’s lap and sighed.

“We should do that again sometime,” Eggsy murmured.

“Yes,” Harry agreed sleepily, cuddling Eggsy’s thigh. “It felt nice.”

“You’re adorable, you know that?”

Harry just made some agreeable noise and fell asleep.


	7. Hartwin: Leather Pants

Prompt: "Same-age Hartwin meeting in a nightclub."

(note: Harry is based on [**this vid/clip**](https://kingsmanhart.tumblr.com/post/157989273061/am-i-ashamed-i-made-this-absolutely-fuckin-not) that Mordred showed me because they’re a wonderful human being)

* * *

 

Eggsy, Jamal, and Ryan were lurking.

Well, actually, Ryan was drinking, Jamal was flirting, and Eggsy was swaying to the music. Ryan was drinking to forget that he’d been dumped, again; Jamal was flirting with a pretty young woman whose name Eggsy had already forgotten; and Eggsy was waiting for the dance floor to get a little more packed.

He didn’t like dancing unless he was alone or in the middle of a large group. He was good–he was _very_ good–but he was insecure. Which never failed to make people laugh. It was almost painful.

Eggsy looked around and saw that the floor was filling up. He finished his drink and headed for the dance floor.

On the way, he passed another bloke that he’d been eyeing all night. The bloke was around his age, with hair that desperately wanted to curl, a cleft chin, and what looked like tight leather pants. Ryan and Jamal didn’t mind Eggsy’s penchant for going home with other men; that, as Ryan had pointed out, left more women for them. But back to the man in leather pants and a dark t-shirt. He was looking at the dance floor with great longing, but something held him back.

Eggsy wondered if he should offer to dance with him. But then he was past him, and diving straight into the mass of dancers.

 _“I’m on tonight you know my hips don’t lie_  
And I’m starting to feel it’s right  
All the attraction, the tension  
Don’t you see baby, this is perfection.”

Eggsy got lost in the music, moving his hips in an approximation of what he’d seen in the video, raising his hands with everyone else, grinning at nothing as he danced. It was glorious.

And then someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned, surprised, to see the man he’d been watching. The bloke looked nervous, then took a breath and asked, loudly to be heard over the music, “Can I dance with you?”

Eggsy grinned again, stepped closer, and slid his hand around to the small of the other man’s back. “Absolutely.”

He was a horrible dancer–but it was a charming horribleness; cute, even. Eggsy smiled and corrected him with gentle touches, not as presumptuous as that first touch. He might have been bad, but he learned quickly. And he danced steadily closer, until they were so close Eggsy could feel his breath on his face. They were of a height, and that was absolutely _wonderful_.

But… Eggsy was reluctant to offer sex. So they just danced, until their lungs burned and legs ached. Then Eggsy took the other’s hand and led the way to the bar.

“What’s your name?” he asked as the bartender poured their cocktails.

“Harry,” the other answered. “What’s yours?”

“Eggsy.”

“That’s an odd name,” Harry said, then looked down, embarrassed. Eggsy grinned.

“Blame my mum. She’s the one who came up with it.”

“Who’s this?” Ryan demanded, stumbling over to them. Eggsy sighed; he’d have to take Ryan home, since Jamal would probably go with that beautiful young woman.

“This is Harry. Harry, my mate Ryan.”

“Hello,” Harry said. Ryan just sniffed and knocked back the rest of his drink.

Eggsy and Harry talked for a while, until they were rested again. Then Harry took Eggsy’s hand and tugged shyly; Eggsy gladly stood and walked with him to the dance floor.

By the time Ryan was kicked out, Eggsy was sure; he wanted Harry. But not yet. Not yet. So they exchanged numbers, and Eggsy collected Jamal, and they went to rescue Ryan.

~

Harry was humming when he stumbled through the door of his flat that he shared with his best mate.

Merlin looked up from the telly he was tinkering with and frowned at Harry. “Don’t tell me you actually spoke to him,” he commented flatly.

“I did,” Harry replied proudly. “He taught me to dance.”

Merlin ran a hand through his already-thinning hair and scowled. “He’s bad news,” he insisted. “Did you forget who his stepfather is?”

“I don’t care.” Harry stumbled to his chair and fell into it, beaming at Merlin. “He’s _wonderful_.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but said nothing more, leaving Harry to his reminiscing. Harry hummed to himself as he went over the encounter in his head, ignoring the vague disappointment that Eggsy hadn’t asked to come home with him. He’d’ve had to decline anyway; Merlin had made it clear he was _not_ moving from the living room tonight.

But Harry still had his number, and Eggsy had promised to meet him next week. That was good enough.


	8. 00Q: Flowers and Tattoos

Prompt: "00q - au where James owns a flower shop and Q is a tattoo artist working on the other side of the street"

* * *

 

 

“Delivery!”

Q paused in his designing to look up, frowning. No one delivered anything here, and they’d only just opened for the day. But there R was, signing for a huge floral arrangement. The man carrying the vase grinned at her.

“You the owner of this place?” he asked.

R gave him a sideways look, the corners of her mouth curling up coquettishly. “No, the owner happens to be busy. But I’ll gladly be the owner if you want me to be.”

The man chuckled, and made sure their hands brushed as he handed over the vase. “Unfortunately, beautiful, I’ve got work. May I come by on your lunch break?”

“Absolutely.”

Q shook his head and went back to work, letting them flirt. Sometimes he missed such past times; but right now, he did not. He was busy.

~

“So?”

Alec grinned at James. “Well, the employee is beautiful,” he began, bracing his elbows on the counter. “I think I saw the owner in the back. You’re right, he is a skinny little thing.”

James frowned. “Did you talk to him?” he pressed.

“No, he was busy. Honestly, what’s so attractive about him? Besides that pout, of course.”

James shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Help me rearrange the roses.”

~

“Delivery.”

Q didn’t bother looking up. It had been three weeks, and he didn’t need to look to know it was Alec with more flowers. R insisted the flowers were for Q, but Q knew better. Alec bought them for R. Really, why they couldn’t just get together and be a real couple was beyond him.

“Hello,” R said, a little uncertainly, and that’s when Q realized the voice hadn’t belonged to Alec. He paused in his tattooing and looked up.

Instead of playful puppy Alec, another, sterner man stood in the doorway, looking around curiously with thoughtful, ice-blue eyes. Those eyes landed on Q, and he shivered very slightly.

“Oi, ain’t you gonna finish?” Q’s customer demanded.

“Sorry, sir,” Q answered smoothly, and got back to work.

The man who’d made Alec’s delivery walked over and stood at a respectful distance, watching Q work. Q ignored him. The customer didn’t.

“You got a problem?” the customer sneered.

“Not at all,” the deliveryman answered smoothly. “I was just hoping I could speak with…” his eyes flicked to Q’s nametag. “…Q.”

“A moment, please,” Q answered absently, focusing on his current masterpiece.

The deliveryman nodded and went to sit in one of the plastic chairs waiting for customers.

Q finished the tattoo–a version of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam done with Simpsons characters–and sighed. “There. Do you remember how to care for it, or must I give you another pamphlet?”

“I remember,” the customer grumbled, and stood to go to the counter and pay. The deliveryman came over again while Q was cleaning the needle.

“How do you like your flowers?” he asked Q gravely.

Q glanced around at the many and varied flowers adorning every surface. He had at least ten arrangements. “They’re very wonderful, thank you,” he replied politely. “Who keeps buying them, may I ask?”

The deliveryman smiled. “No one does.”

Q stared. “…I beg your pardon.”

“I own the shop across the street.” The deliveryman waved a hand towards the large front window, through which the shopfront for a flower business was visible. “And since you’re new in the neighborhood I thought I’d be friendly.”

“Oh.” Q furrowed his brow, confused. “You don’t have to keep sending them to me. I liked the first ones just fine.”

“Mm.” The deliveryman looked him over, then smiled again, an infinitely charming smile. “My name is James. Would you like to go to dinner with me?”


	9. Hartwin: Match

Prompt: "If you are still taking prompts: Hartwin - Getting matching tattoos"

  


* * *

“Do we have to?” Harry asked plaintively.

“Yes,” Eggsy answered firmly.

They stepped into Eggsy’s favorite tattoo shop, and immediately a woman with many piercings and rainbow-colored hair hurried over to them, grinning.

“So this is him?” she asked Eggsy. “You finally convinced him?”

Harry blinked. Eggsy had only brought the matter up yesterday.

“Yes,” Eggsy answered her, grinning. “We’re gonna go with butterflies.”

“We are?” Harry asked blankly.

“Yes. Butterflies on our shoulders. Don’t back out now, love.” Eggsy elbowed him gently with a teasing smile, and Harry felt an answering smile appear on his own face.

“Oh, alright. But simple, please.”

“Absolutely! Browse the catalog if you want and we’ll be right with you.”

~

Harry did not wince, though it really did hurt a little. It was only a small design, simple as he’d requested. The rainbow-haired lass was doing it in rainbow colors, too. Harry didn’t know if he approved; but Eggsy was getting a similar treatment, and he could not complain against anything Eggsy did (besides buying more pug-themed decorations for the house).

Eggsy was done first, and bounced to his feet quite happily. Then, seeing Harry’s tattoo, he complained, “Hey, his is bigger!”

“This isn’t a contest, love,” Harry answered serenely.

Eggsy harrumphed, but it was just for show.

When they walked out of the shop, Harry’s shoulder didn’t hurt anymore. Eggsy took his hand.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, confident in Harry’s response.

He was right to be confident. Harry smiled and kissed Eggsy’s hand. “No, I suppose it wasn’t. Thank you.”


	10. Hartwin: Woo

Prompt: "Eggsy wooing Harry!"

(I, ah, I made this a bakery AU because why the frickfrack not we’re all gonna die someday)

* * *

 

“Here,” the young man mumbled, thrusting a small pink bouquet at Harry.

Harry took it, surprised. He’d had his fair share of admirers, but this was… different. Mostly because he didn’t recognize the boy, but also because no one had ever been brash enough to sneak into the back room and present him with _flowers_ , of all things.

“Ah,” he said, but before he could say anything, the boy turned and nearly ran out the door again.

Harry shook his head, mystified.

~

Kingsman bakery was highly thought of and quite famous. They even had their own little cafe area, where Percy served tea and coffee, and his little sister, Roxanne, learned the ropes. Harry baked; Merlin decorated. The things that man could do with frosting and spun sugar…

But the point was, Harry rarely spent any time minding the register. He spent most of his time in the kitchen, doing his job. The only moments he wandered out of the kitchen were when they were between shifts and needed an extra hand with doling out fresh-baked goodies. So he didn’t know any of the patrons, by name or face.

Well, he knew one name: Eggsy.

“That Eggsy boy is back,” Merlin sighed one day, about a week after the flowers. “He wants to come talk to you.”

“Tell him I’m busy,” Harry replied absently, kneading a lump of dough into submission. He vaguely recalled the name; Roxanne had mentioned him a few times, as a friend from the Marines. He couldn’t remember anything else about the young man in question.

Merlin eyed Harry for a moment, then smirked. “No, I think I’ll let him in.”

Harry’s head snapped up, and he glared suspiciously, but before he could ask, Merlin had whisked away. Whisk–that reminded Harry, he had cupcakes to bake.

While he was cutting and forming the dough, however, Merlin returned, and in his wake was the same boy who’d given Harry the flowers.

“Merlin,” Harry growled in exasperation.

“You have five minutes,” Merlin told the boy, and vanished out the door again. Harry paused in his work, leaning against the table, and waited.

The lad walked over and held out a red box. “Roxy said ya don’t eat chocolate so I got you some Turkish delight,” the boy got out in a rush, cringing slightly as if expecting a blow.

Harry blinked. He opened his mouth to say no, thank you, please give this to one of your other sweethearts–but his hands were already reaching out and accepting the box.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly.

The boy nodded jerkily, then turned and ran.

Harry set the box in a safe place where no one would find it and got back to work, thinking.

~

Eggsy returned twice more that week, bearing gifts. One was a (surprisingly good) drawing of a giraffe, because Roxanne had said that was Harry’s favorite animal (it was), and the other was another box of sweets, this one full of sugared fruits. Harry only had time to thank him before Eggsy beat a hasty retreat.

Harry accepted that Eggsy was courting him when, during a particularly difficult and hectic day, he appeared like magic (Merlin no longer bothered trying to gatekeep) with a to-go mug of tea.

“Roxy said Merlin said it was your favorite,” Eggsy explained nervously.

Harry took a sip right then and there, and sighed in relief. “You are an angel,” he told Eggsy gravely.

The shock and delight on Eggsy’s face was priceless.

“Um… did you like the sweets?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes, but I prefer tea more.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll remember that. I mean–goodbye!” Eggsy gasped, very red in the face, and ran away.

Harry smiled, just a little.

The courting continued. The next time Eggsy came by, he had Harry’s favorite tea, and he asked a few tentative questions before hastily taking his leave. The next time was the same, except he carried a box of doughnuts (which Kingsman didn’t carry) along with the tea. Gradually, as Eggsy learned more about Harry, Harry learned more about Eggsy. And, gradually, he found himself warming to the boy.

Two months into their acquaintance, Eggsy arrived empty-handed–and with a black eye so swollen he couldn’t open said eye.

“Sorry I don’t have anything,” he mumbled when Harry stopped what he was doing to stare. “My… I got mugged, and my next paycheck isn’t until next week.”

Harry hesitated all of three seconds. “Come here,” he commanded, in a tone which brooked no argument.

Eggsy did so, flinching slightly as Harry touched his jaw gently. Harry turned Eggsy’s head a little so he could more properly see the bruise. It was truly magnificent. Harry frowned.

“I could teach you self-defense,” he offered, quite without meaning to. “I know a thing or two about holding off attackers.”

Eggsy stared at him. Then he blushed and looked away. “No, ‘s alright,” he mumbled. “I’ll just run faster next time.”

Harry held back a snort. Then he said, “Well, since you’ve come empty-handed, I believe the only thing you can do now is help me with these macaroons.”

Eggsy nodded vigorously, a smile splitting his face. “I been practicin’! I mean, not macaroons, but I been practicin’ baking, a little. I–” he flushed again and cut himself off. Harry pretended not to care.

“Grab an apron and wash your hands, then, and I’ll show you how to make them.”

~

After that, things got… interesting.

Harry found himself drawn even more to the boy, and he thought Eggsy was more drawn to him, as well. It was the way his eyes shone and his smile grew whenever he was near Harry. Harry, in turn, found himself relaxing fully around Eggsy, and smiling just a little more often. Merlin walked in on them baking together one day, raised his eyebrows, and walked straight back out again. That evening Harry had had to suffer Percy’s jeers, James’ laughter, and Roxanne’s gentle teasing.

“Why don’t we just hire him on?” James asked curiously one day during closing. “He seems to be doing well.”

Everyone gave him exasperated looks. “You really think Arthur will allow it?” Roxanne answered.

James shrugged, with a sly glance at Harry. “Just a suggestion.”

Harry ignored the look.

The next day, Eggsy arrived with a bouquet of gardenias, and Harry gave a genuine smile.

“They’ll wilt in here,” he told Eggsy. “It’s too hot.”

“I’ll put it in the breakroom, then,” Eggsy answered, beaming.

Slowly, Harry realized he had begun to flirt with Eggsy. And Eggsy was flirting back.

“I’m gone on him, aren’t I?” Harry asked Merlin miserably.

“Yes,” Merlin answered bluntly, pouring himself another glass of scotch. “But he’s gone on you, too. Never fear, Matchmaker Merlin is here.”

Harry pretended to throw his empty glass at Merlin.


	11. 00Q: Ink

 

 

 

Prompt: "00q - tattoos :3"

 

* * *

 

“They’re quite beautiful.”

“I know.”

James chuckled and kissed Q’s shoulder. “Always so humble,” he teased gently, “Whatever shall I do with you?”

Q finished putting on his shirt and turned to face James. “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you get to tease me,” he said sharply, doing up the buttons. “I’m still Quartermaster.”

James ran his fingertips down Q’s arm where the tattoo of a cyborg dragon breathed blue flame. He hadn’t known Q was an ink fanatic. He hadn’t known last night, either, too blinded by lust and pleasure. But this morning, watching Q dress, he’d been fascinated with the tattoos. Q had allowed it, dressing very slowly so as to give James time to drink in the sight.

They were all mythical creatures, but they were all robots, or cyborgs, or whatever they were called. A griffin here, a dragon there, a sphinx at the back of his neck. There was even a steampunk Cerberus. James wanted to pepper each and every one of them with kisses.

“I know,” he answered Q with a small smile. “But if I didn’t, who would?”

Q rolled his eyes, then dragged James down for a kiss.


	12. Hartwin: Jail

"Here's a prompt: Eggsy springing Harry from jail this time"

* * *

“What did you do this time?!”

“Disorderly conduct,” Harry replied, and Eggsy could almost hear the shrug. “They caught me brawling.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes, but hurried to put on his shoes and grab his coat. “So you wasted your one phonecall on me, when you could just have Merlin spring you?”

“Merlin would be displeased with me for months. You won’t.”

Eggsy sighed. It was true. He was worried, but not displeased or angry. Harry was a grown-ass man, he could make his own decisions. “I don’t know how to get you out short’a bribing someone.”

“It’s quite simple, really…”

Harry then gave him a list of instructions that Eggsy would not have been able to memorize so quickly if not for the memory exercises he still did. It was a very convoluted process. Eggsy grimaced as he rang off with a quick “Love you” and headed out into the cold.

The policewoman he talked to seemed confused by something, until he told her his name, and then her face cleared and she beamed at him.

“Eggsy Unwin! So you _did_ go out and make something of yourself!” she exclaimed, laughing a little. “Eliot owes me fifty quid. Alright, who do you need sprung?”

Eggsy blinked, then smiled back. “Posh bloke, brown hair, brown eyes, around fifty or so, in for brawling–”

“Ah, Duvere. What, is he your sugardaddy?” she asked with a sly smile, already typing away at her computer, and chuckled at the face Eggsy made.

“He’s actually my boss,” Eggsy replied. “And the shop owner will have both our balls for Christmas decorations if I don’t get him home quickly.”

“Haven’t heard that one before at all,” the police officer murmured, still smirking.

Somehow, the process wasn’t as convoluted when the officer was willing, and soon Harry and Eggsy were walking out of the station together.

“Don’t _ever_ scare me like that again!” Eggsy hissed as they walked away. “You’re too important to leave in jail!”

Harry smirked. “I promise to be more careful,” he said with fake humility.

Eggsy punched his arm.


	13. Hartwin: Colds

"if you're still taking prompts, maybe a little drabble about harry having a cold and eggsy taking care of him? i leave it to your creative genius to make harry as cuddly or as grumpy as you see fit ;)"

* * *

“Harry,” Eggsy sighed, “I can’t get you more tea if you won’t let go.”

Harry grumbled and tightened his arm over Eggsy’s waist. Eggsy rolled his eyes and began to squirm. Harry let go quickly, and muttered, “You had better come back soon.”

“It’s just tea. I’m not going anywhere but the kitchen.”

“Order still stands.”

Eggsy shook his head, chuckling softly, and padded downstairs to make the special tea mum had brought.

He’d just finished filling the kettle when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He smiled, recognizing Harry’s tread, and didn’t turn around. Instead, he set about making marmalade sandwiches.

“I hate marmalade,” Harry grumbled petulantly, slipping his arms around Eggsy from behind.

“Then why is this jar half gone already?”

“I don’t know but it wasn’t me.”

Eggsy just smiled and turned his head enough to kiss Harry’s cheek.

When the tea was steeping and the sandwiches were done, they retreated to the sitting room. Harry curled up on the sofa and ate his lunch, then scowled at Eggsy. Eggsy laughed and sat next to him, snuggling into Harry’s arms and sighing as Harry hugged him tightly.

“You should get sick more often,” Eggsy teased. “You’re so much cuter like this.”

“No.”

Eggsy laughed again and kissed his cheek.


	14. 00Q: Cats

Prompt: "00q - Q's cats like Bond more than they do Q"

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Q complained, hands on his hips, pouting as his cats mewed and pawed at a terrified James. “They _never_ make those noises for me.”

“They think I’m food,” James got out through clenched teeth.

“Nonsense. They just want to be pet.” Q sat down and reached out, but his cats ignored him. When his hand brushed against Saphy, she jumped, whirled, and hissed at Q. He pulled away, looking so heartbroken that James got over his fear, scooped up the felines, and dumped them in Q’s lap.

Of course, they slipped right off his lap again and flowed over to James, mewing pathetically.

“I am not your food-dispenser!” James grunted. “Go love your da!”

The cats ignored him.

“This is it,” Q sniffled. “I really am going to die alone and miserable. Not even my cats will care.”

“That’s not true,” James retorted sharply. “You’re going to die in my arms at a ripe old age, and we’ll have new cats by then.”

Q stared at him. Then he smiled. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”


	15. Hartwin: Jumper

Prompt: "hartwin - harry's reaction the first time eggsy's wears one of his sweater (and only that) to go about his business in the morning"

* * *

 

Harry nearly choked on his tea.

Eggsy pretended not to notice, shuffling past Harry with a scowl to fetch a cup for his own morning cuppa. Harry’s baggiest jumper was barely long enough to cover his arse, let alone his front. Harry gulped, pointedly looking the other way; then wondered at his own prudishness. Hadn’t they been together nearly two years? Hadn’t he seen Eggsy naked hundreds of times? Why should these glimpses make his insides flutter nervously?

Because, he realized, it was _his_ jumper Eggsy was wearing. If Eggsy had just been going commando, as he sometimes did, it would’ve been fine, but seeing him in _Harry’s_ clothes…

They hadn’t shared clothes yet. That was the issue.

“What’re you thinkin’ so hard about?” Eggsy asked with a yawn, slipping under Harry’s arm and wrapping his own limb around Harry’s waist. Harry automatically kissed the top of his head, smiling at the familiar grumble. 

“You look excellent in my clothes. That’s all.”

Eggsy glanced up at him slyly. “Oh really?”

“Yes. Really.”


	16. 00Q/Hartwin: BAKE OFF

Prompt: "Okay but Harry Hart and James Bong having a bake off while Eggsy and Q fuel their competition spirit just for the sake of getting more baked goods?"

* * *

“Go go go!”

“Move that tush, James!”

“You say ‘tush’?”

“It’s quite soft sometimes you know.”

“Oi, enough talk,” James snapped over his shoulder, pouring batter into cupcake tins. “We’re working here.”

“What, are they distracting you, Jimmy?” Harry asked dryly, already sliding his tin into his oven.

James shot him a venomous glare.

Eggsy and Q, sitting next to each other at the kitchen island and sipping martinis, both laughed.

The bake-off was happening in the kitchens of MI6, since it was the only place big enough for two chefs that the four of them knew of. So far, there had been biscuits, tarts, and custards; now the two contestants were working on cupcakes, while their respective boyfriends got drunk on each other’s martinis. No one dared disturb them.

“Gotta piss,” Eggsy announced, and slid off his stool to wobble to the bathroom. Q promptly grabbed Eggsy’s martini and drank it all, before pouring a new one with far less gin.

James and Harry glared at each other as they stood before their ovens, both of them with their arms crossed over their chests. Neither moved, like they were trying to out-statue each other. Q put his chin in his hand, elbow on the counter, and smiled goofily at James.

“You look cute in an apron,” he said.

“Thank you, Q,” James replied without looking away from Harry.

“Oh, just get out a ruler and measure your cocks if you’re that concerned,” Q sighed carelessly, sipping his martini daintily.

Harry’s mouth twitched.

Eggsy returned, but instead of going to his seat, he went to Harry and hugged him tightly.

“When are the cupcakes done, Cupcake?” Eggsy slurred.

“Another ten minutes. Go sit down, love, before you hurt yourself.” Harry finally broke stance to steer Eggsy to his seat, and took away the alcohol. “You can have this back when you’ve drunk some water. _Both_ of you.”

Q and Eggsy groaned dramatically. James smirked, reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to be added to at some point because hOW COOL IS THAT PROMPT???


	17. Hartwin: Worry

Prompt: "Hartwin - Harry calming Eggsy because he's freaking out about their age difference and think Harry will leave him for someone more mature"

 

* * *

 

They were having a perfectly lovely snogging session when Eggsy stuttered, stilled, then pulled away.

Harry blinked, surprised. Eggsy wouldn’t look at him. “Eggsy? Love, what’s wrong?”

Eggsy held out for a magnificent seven seconds, a new record. Then he blurted, “Are you sure you want to be with a baby?”

Harry blinked again. That again? He thought they’d settled that. His hands, which had been creeping up under the hem of Eggsy’s shirt, lifted to cup his face gently. “Darling, you’re not a baby. And I’m very sure I don’t want anyone else.”

“Yeah, but–but what if you do, but you don’t know it yet?” Eggsy met his eyes, looking worried–on the edge of panic, even. “What if you meet someone else, someone your age? What if you don’t like that I don’t know as much as you, what if–”

“Eggsy, dearheart, we’ve been over this,” Harry interrupted gently. “I love you. Only you. And I don’t care about your age or knowledge. Do you mind an old codger pawing at you every night?”

“You’re not an old codger! And you don’t paw!”

“Exactly.”

Eggsy grumbled half-heartedly, obviously still not convinced. Harry pulled him into a firm hug and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll tell you as often as you need to hear it,” he murmured. “I love you.”


	18. 00Q: Slow-Dance

Prompt: "00q - slow dancing together with james humming as their only music"

 

* * *

“You’ve been working too long again.”

Q grunted.

James sighed, then pushed off of the doorway where he’d been leaning and stood behind Q’s chair, hands on Q’s shoulder. “Come on, darling. Come to bed,” James coaxed gently.

“Gotta finish,” Q muttered.

James frowned, then shrugged, stuck his hands under Q’s arms, gripped his ribcage (gently), and lifted him to his feet, ignoring his yelp.

“But I have work–!”

“It can wait,” James soothed, turned Q around, and set one hand on Q’s waist while the other lifted Q’s own hand. Q’s other appendage settled on James’ bicep.

“James–”

“Shhh.”

Slowly, James began to revolve them both on the spot. Q shuffled along awkwardly at first, then sighed and relaxed, stepping in time with James. James began to hum, the first song that came to mind; something by Ed Sheeran. Q’s lips quirked as he recognized the tune.

The flat was absolutely silent except for the scuff of their feet on the carpet and James’ humming.

It was only a few minutes until Q was fully relaxed, his eyelids beginning to droop. James kissed his nose and kept humming, leading Q gently to the computer, where the boffin shut everything down with James’ broad hands on his hips. Then they danced carefully to bed, and Q laid down with a soul-deep sigh. James laid beside him, and hummed until Q was asleep. Then he, too, slipped into slumber with a smile.


	19. Hartwin: Pep Talk

"Fine fine, here's another prompt: Merlin giving Harry a pep talk about Eggsy"

* * *

Merlin sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. “Harry, this nonsense needs to stop.”

Harry grunted, gazing into the depths of his drink.

“You can’t just keep coming over and drinking all of my liquor just because you don’t have the balls to ask him on a sodding date.”

Harry took a sip.

Merlin rolled his eyes and sat across from Harry. “Fine. Pep talk it is. You’d better appreciate this, because I’m only doing it once,” Merlin warned, pointing at Harry sternly.

Harry just met his eyes and made a sullen expression.

Another sigh, and Merlin plowed on. “You know he fancies you. Hell, maybe he even loves you. You have to come to terms with that. He fancies all of you, not just the knight in shining armor. He’s seen you at your worst, and how has that changed the way he’s acted towards you? Hmm?”

“It hasn’t,” Harry muttered.

“Exactly. He _likes_ you, you wanker. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I’ve heard the way he talks. He can’t get enough of you. Have I told you that I caught him searching through the archives for every bit of footage of you, every soundbite? When you were dead, of course. Now that you’re back… he won’t let you go. Don’t you see? You can’t keep pushing him away, because he’ll always come back to you.”

Harry was staring at Merlin. Then his eyes shadowed and the corners of his mouth dragged down. “Our ages, though–”

“Mean _nothing_ to him,” Merlin interrupted, exasperated to the point of fierceness. “None of your hangups bother him. He loves you. He wants you. He _needs_ you. So. What are you going to do?”

Harry stared at his drink some more. Then he whispered, “I’m going to ask him on a sodding date.”

Merlin finally smirked. “That’s the spirit.”


	20. Hartwin: Bake

Prompt: "Hartwin - baking together"

* * *

 

The kitchen is a _mess_.

Harry has never been much of a cook, and neither has Eggsy; so why they decided to go on a baking spree, neither knows. Eggsy just knows it’s excellent fun, and Harry knows he doesn’t want anything else.

There is something gorgeous about Eggsy smudged with flour and cocoa powder, Harry muses as he mixes batter, watching Eggsy covertly as the younger man rolls out dough. Something… wholesome. Maybe it’s the genuine smile on his face, or how he’s humming I Could Have Danced All Night. Whatever it is, it makes Harry smile softly too, and move a little closer so he can bump his shoulder against Eggsy’s.

Eggsy looks up and turns his smile up to a beam. “You have something on your nose,” he says.

“I believe it’s called a face,” Harry replies, smile widening as Eggsy laughs.

“No, silly, there’s something smudged.” Eggsy automatically goes to wipe it off with his thumb, and leaves an even bigger smear. “Damn it!”

Harry kisses Eggsy’s temple. “Leave it, love. Let’s finish this up before your mum and Daisy come home.”


	21. 00Q: Treats

Prompt: "00q - Q has a secret admirer who leaves him baked goods that taste so good Q could cry"

* * *

 

The first box is macaroons. They make him moan indecently. His minions stare, horrified, but he doesn’t care. 

The second box is double-chocolate biscuits. They make him light-headed with pleasure.

The third is a tiramisu that tastes like seven types of Heaven. He has to take most of it home, it’s too delicious to finish at work.

The fourth is a light lemon cake. He basks in the flavor for a full ten minutes, and vows to snog his secret admirer senseless when he finds out who it is.

But… he doesn’t really _want_ to find out. He likes the secrecy. And snogging would get in the way of eating.

The fifth box is tarts of all varieties, and he nearly sobs as he eats them.

He doesn’t know his minions have been trying to figure out who it is until R runs up to him brandishing a thick packet of papers, squealing, “Sir, we did it! We did it! We know who it is!”

“Who?” he mumbles around a mouthful of blueberry pie.

“007!”

~

James is delivering a strawberry-and-angel layered cake (stealthily, of course) when the light suddenly flicks on, and he whirls to see Q standing in the doorway.

“Q,” James greets him with a smile. “Please forgive my intrusion, but I was asked to deliver this to–”

“Cut the crap, James,” Q interrupts, and he appears to be fighting a smile of his own. “Is baking really that much easier than just saying it?”

“Yes,” James answers, ignoring the thrill of joy that shivers through him at hearing Q call him by name.

Q laughs, walks forward, and snogs James. It’s quite lovely. James is getting lost in it when Q backs off, taking the cake with him.

“Now, are you going to share with me, or are you going to pretend you didn’t like that?”

James grins at Q’s sly smile. “It would be my pleasure, Quartermaster.”


	22. 00Q: Great British Bake-Off

Prompt: "00q - watching the great british bake off together"

* * *

 

“Do you _have_ to wear that?” Q sighed. “It’s just a tv show.”

James gives him an outraged look as he finishes tying on his neon-pink-and-lime-green frilly baking-apron (a gag gift from Tanner). “Q! How dare you! This is important!” he play-scolds, before scooping up his tray of homemade biscuits and cakes, hooking his arm around Q’s waist, and heading for the living room. “We’re binge-watching the best show on television. We have to get into the spirit.”

Q shakes his head, mystified, as he’s towed to the couch. Ever since he’d discovered James’ passion for baking, he’d teased him about it; but this is just ridiculous. Unless it’s all a show to make up for Q’s Doctor Who binge-watching sessions. He wouldn’t put it past James.

They settle together on the couch with the tray on the coffee table, and nibble throughout the first round. Q easily picks out the ones who will be failing. He tells James his guesses, and James smiles.

“We’ll make a proper spy of you yet,” he murmurs warmly and kisses Q’s cheek. Q munches on another biscuit smugly.

When they reach the bread episode, James vanishes into the kitchen, and brings back a fresh loaf of banana bread. Q most certainly does  _not_ squeal happily.

As the competition narrows, Q and James choose favorites, and argue back and forth over which of them deserved more points. But when the final round comes, they are both silent and tense, actually leaning forward as they await the verdict.

When it comes, it is not what either of them expected, and they sit there, gobsmacked, as there is cheering and hugging and tears and celebration on their screen.

“…okay,” Q says, “We need to do this again sometime.”


	23. Hartwin: Laugh

Prompt: "Hartwin - laughing while kissing"

* * *

Eggsy has always loved Harry’s smile. It is so rare, it is Eggsy’s dearest treasure. Only Eggsy (and Daisy) can make Harry smile.

But even rarer than smiling is his laugh. Not his quiet chuckle, nor his sarcastic snort; the real, belly-deep laughs, the ones where he throws his head back and can’t stop and he grins so brightly Eggsy feels like he’s glowing.

Eggsy makes him laugh like that when he first wears his pug onesie. Eggsy can’t help laughing too, because he knows he looks ridiculous, and he knows Harry hasn’t laughed in months, and he knows there is nothing more beautiful than Happy Harry.

When Harry wheezes, gasping for breath, Eggsy kisses him. That sends them both off into another round, and every time Eggsy returns his lips to Harry’s, Harry grins and lets out another burst of laughter. It’d be annoying, if it weren’t the most amazing, beautiful, breathtaking thing.


	24. Hartwin: Scar

"If you are still taking prompts: Hartwin and scars?"

* * *

 

They have eighteen hours left. They’ve drunk just enough for their inhibitions to be lowered, and Harry doesn’t mind at all when Eggsy insists on seeing his scars. He shows the ones on his arms and hands first, telling the story belonging to each. Then he unbuttons his shirt just enough to show his collarbone and the long, ragged, shiny scar from where a bumbling would-be assassin had tried to cut his throat and missed.

For some reason, that story makes Eggsy’s forehead wrinkle and his expression turn unhappy, where before he had been interested and enthralled. Harry blinks, and wonders what he did wrong.

“Ah…”

Before he can speak, Eggsy is on his feet and circling the desk. He leans over Harry and puts the fingertips of his right hand ever so gently on the scar. Harry doesn’t push him away. Eggsy takes this as permission, and begins exploring the edges of the long gash with his fingers, soon adding his left hand. Harry sits very still and lets Eggsy take it in.

“You have more,” Eggsy states.

Harry nods, and unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way. Eggsy’s eyes rove over the various scars, and the unhappy look on his face intensifies, the corners of his mouth dragging down, his eyebrows drawing together.

“What are the stories?” he asks softly.

So Harry tells him, eyes never leaving Eggsy’s face. There is something so vulnerable there, so intensely sad and open, that he just wants to gather Eggsy into his arms and… well, he doesn’t really know what he’d do at that point, but he’d try to comfort Eggsy.

Eggsy’s fingers trail down Harry’s chest and fall away. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Harry stands then, and gathers Eggsy into his arms. He isn’t surprised when Eggsy slips his hands inside Harry’s open shirt and circles his waist to feel the scars on his back. He lets Eggsy explore. There is no reason to stop him.

After what feels like an eternity, Eggsy slid his hands, flat against Harry’s skin, around to the front of his torso again, and up over his chest. Eggsy wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry holds him firmly.

“Do they hurt?”

“Not anymore.”


	25. Hartwin: Haircut

Prompt: "either Harry or Eggsy got a really bad haircut"

* * *

Eggsy gaped at Harry.

“No. _Fucking_. Way.”

Harry scowled. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Eggsy burst into laughter, and lunged forward to run his hand over the horrible, choppy mess that was Harry’s hair. “You actually did it! You actually went! Roxy owes me fifty quid!” Eggsy crowed, and laughed again at Harry’s expression. “What, you really thought we wouldn’t bet on it?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t,” Harry grumbled, catching Eggsy around the waist with both arms and pressing his forehead to Eggsy’s. The younger man calmed immediately, hands sliding down from the top of Harry’s head to the back of his neck. He still snickered, though.

“It looks _hideous_ ,” he informed his lover with relish.

Harry made a face. “Which is why I’m going to get it evened out as soon as possible,” he retorted primly.

“Nuh-uh. You either gotta let it grow out a little or shave it all off. That’s the deal, remember?”

“I remember.”

Eggsy kissed him softly and laughed again.


	26. 00Q: Age

Prompt: "00q - Bond feeling inadequate because he's much older than Q and Q reassuring him that he's exactly what he want"

* * *

 

“Are you sure?”

Q laughs. “James, I’ve been sure since you insulted my complexion. Now kiss me.”

James obliges happily.

~

“But I’m… I’m _old_. I’m broken. I’m a _weapon_.”

Q smiles and kisses James tenderly, long, cool fingers splayed across James’ bare chest. “Yes, but you’re _my_ weapon.”

James can’t argue with that.

~

“I’m going to die before you.”

“No you aren’t. I’ve been assured that I will barely make fifty with my work-habits.”

~

“Q, I’m too old for you.”

“Are you going to marry me or not?”

“Yes. _Yes_.”

“Then stop putting yourself down.” Q kisses him, oh so gently, and James wants to cry. “I love you, you idiot. All of you. Age, scars, and all.”


	27. 00Q: Venice

Prompt: "00Q, Venice. ^.^, thank you, darling."

* * *

 

 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of water, too.”

“I’m not,” Q sighed, fiddling with his cuffs, “I just dislike the notion of falling out of a boat. Can’t we just walk?”

“What’s the point of visiting Venice if we don’t take a boat ride?” James asked, smirking. “Scaredy-cat.”

“I am _not_ a scaredy-cat,” Q snapped back. Then he sighed again, heavily. “Alright, fine. But just the one.”

James’ smirk grew.

It was their one-year anniversary of being in a steady relationship. Neither really knew how they had managed, but they had, and that was what mattered. Mallory had given in to James’ pestering and granted them three days of leave for an anniversary trip; since Q had no preference, James had chosen their itinerary. And the third day culminated in a gondola ride through Venice.

Q managed to relax after a few minutes, and found that he quite enjoyed the sun on the water, the architecture, the people walking, the gentle sound of water against the sides of the gondola. He’d studied Venice extensively when he’d found out that was their destination, and he was able to point out the most famous landmarks and tell James why they were famous.

James listened solemnly, but his attention seemed split. Q knew it had something to do with the way James kept his hand in his pocket, clenched around something. He didn’t want to ask, though.

They disembarked in front of a rather expensive-looking restaurant. James insisted, though, so Q shrugged and acquiesced.

The meal was quite good. There were too many people, though. It made it hard to concentrate. Q could tell James was a little _too_ annoyed, though. What was wrong? Was Q doing something wrong? He didn’t think so. He was being a good conversationalist, he was ignoring the world in favor of James’ beautiful eyes and smooth voice, he was eating what he’d ordered…

James covered Q’s hand with his own and smiled gently. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You’re doing amazing.”

Of course he’d know. That was why Q loved him.

They walked after that, and it didn’t take Q long to realize James was deliberately heading to less crowded streets. He was fiddling with that thing in his pocket again, too.

They reached an empty street. James suddenly stopped, took a breath, and turned to Q. Q looked up at him quizzically. James stared into his eyes, and let the breath out in a shuddering whoosh.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered, and yanked a little black box out of his pocket. “Q, will you marry me?”


End file.
